Rain and healing
by Loveforthestory
Summary: Two days in one cabin. Two days and everything changes as Charlie is there for him when no one else is around.
1. Chapter 1 Rain and scars

Chapter one Time

Two days in one cabin.

Two days and everything changes as Charlie is there for him when no one else is around.

xxx

He had turned his face towards the couch. His boots kicked out and messy on the floor.

The rain kept on falling, outside their cabin. It was small, it was not much. It's enough. The wind outside picked up, picking up the drops of rain, smashing it against the three windows of the cabin around her. Two with red curtains on her left, and one behind the couch. A fourth one above the kitchen counter in the small wooden kitchen. The sound of the rain against glass filling the room. The door rattled, but stayed shut.

Charlie looked into the flames, as dry pants were now against her legs again, and her jacket was slowly recovering too from the beats of the rain. Her hair drying in the scent of a fireplace, one of the most comforting scents she could imagine, the image of past hands going through her hair with her.

His shotgun against the side of the couch. Him filling the couch so easily with his tall length.

_Three hours ago_ they had been just out of reach of this safe haven for the night.

When it got pitch dark, Charlie pushed them to keep on going. Something was of, the asshole was just not telling her what. Monroe was pure focus, hardened to the teeth, and with a fighting instinct, paranoia and years of experience had made him hyper aware of his surroundings. She knew the man well enough to know that by now. They shared a road and sleeping places for the night for weeks. A fire, a shed, a motel in a sleepy town where it had been them and a lot of tensed energy in many ways than one, in one room. And now he was back from Vegas, plus son, the kid in her eyes flirty but harmless, and a blood stained shirt that came out of his bag, they were back on the road.

Miles and her mom had stayed behind, as they were on a trip to get more weapons.

They had spotted the cabin, a dark shape in the midst of the trees and fading light and more dark that was moving in. It was still whole, empty and with a working fireplace. Small steps outside let to the front door. At that moment, the heavens opened, and the rain pounded on the both of them.

Monroe stumbled. It was also the moment Charlie saw the intense bewildered look in his eyes, and at the same time she watched him trying to regain focus in his eyes, turning his jaws more tensed. Monroe tried to focus, as she watched something out of place in his step. She knew they were not going to last long. She had just spent weeks looking after an uncle, and she really was not going to hold his hand or anything through anything.

Bass had felt like hell since midday. Although his gut had been acting up a long time before that. He felt sweaty and just the thought of food mad made him want to retch.

'You all right?' She had asked, trying to keep her voice as neutral and indifferent as she could. But he had felt her eyes on him a long time and more times than one now. He had snapped, yelled her name, grunted something.

She really had not deserved that. But he was not going to be sick like a dog and act like his brother did when he had gotten the flu in seventh grade in front of her. The girl already had fought her way in, and he was not about to show any fucking more.

The moment they had found the cabin, he just wanted to crawl in some corner and let the outside rot to hell. Of course, that was when his stomach really had turned into fucking hell, and he had walked outside, passing Charlie, barely able to make it ten feet without emptying his stomach. He was starting to feel the damp cold through his shirt, in the way it reached his toes. He wanted to get some fucking warmth inside.

But dear god, apparently his stomach decided he would be here for fucking forever.

Charlie had looked at Monroe , as his face was tensed and she could see the shimmer of sweat on his forehead.

Monroe had looked positively like hell the moment they gotten inside, and had muttered, although it was more like a growl, he had to go outside. When she had heard the sounds of somebody retching, she added his pale sweating face to the sounds and knew enough. She had opened the door and felt her mouth straitened as her eyes had to look at him. It made her remember how dear people had rubbed her back in comfort at these times. The memory made her want to move back from him and as they moved her closer to him at the same time. Somehow giving Monroe a back rub when he was throwing his stomach up seemed ridiculous.

'You want to go inside where it is warm, or do you want to get some pneumonia while you are at it?'

She was so purely Miles at this point, all attitude and sarcasm, but not being able to stay the hell away from him. Truth was, he felt like hell. His stomach fucking out of control as he could not stop retching. Bass looked her way, and felt more pathetic she was watching him fucking retch all over the porch.

'Come on.' She sounded firm, a small sigh accompanying her words, but she could not manage to bring up her normal level of distant loathing in her voice.

She knew him, like her uncle. If he was willing to show his cards like this, he did not have another choice. He felt beyond hell.

He looked at her with unsure weary eyes and then he moved towards the front door, his boots making heavy sounds on the wood of the porch.

His shirt was soaked and because his system did not get to absorb the energy it needed right now, he felt unsteady on his feet. The difference between the cold damp porch and the warmth inside the room hitting him straight in the face. He really thought it was not a big deal but when Charlie stepped beside him, her shoulder under his arm and oh dear fucking other body parts as well, steadying him, he knew he might have assessed the situation wrong.

Charlie watched him sway, water in his beard, water dripping from his head. His leather jacket proud among his shoulders. Soaked, cold, pale. She knew what she had to do, even in the pigheaded asshole probably would not let her close.

He did.

Which made the worry only grow bigger. She did not drag his ass all the way back once, asking somebody to save that rather fine ass one midnight only to see him like this.

Charlie grabbed him by his jacket, hands digging into the leather on the front and guided him to the couch not far from the fire.

He wanted to growl another thing in protest, but she would not let him.

'Don't be a child like Miles. We both know we have to keep warm. Did not drag your ass all the way back from Vegas to ask my mom if she could maybe not kill you to let you die here because of something like a stomach bug, Monroe.'

Bass blinked with his eyes. That was a lot of fucking information.

'What are you doing.' He closed his eyes at another wave in his stomach.

'To get you warm.'

She crouched down in front of him, her hands going under his jacket, close to his armpits as she moved his wide upper arms one by one out of the jacket, the fabric strong in her hands.

He wanted to start on his boots, Charlie watching how his strong upper arms moved in front of her. But then he felt weirdly too unsteady. He put his hand over his face as Charlie did not talk, but slowly started on the laces of his boots.

'Leave it,' he growled as Charlie looked at him with her eyes way, hell all of her, too damn close, as he kicked them out.

When that felt like he had done a day of marching, Charlie put a flask in his hands to add some more insult to his injuries.

'Drink,' She said without accepting anything else than him drinking, 'Flush whatever this is out.'

He took a gulp, his body telling him exactly what he could do with the water. She was there, a look of care in her eyes as he started to almost throw up again.

He could not remember anyone else than his staff taking care of him when he was sick.

She did not even look at him with loathing, she just sat by him. Waited.

Then, he felt a shiver. He got out of his shirt with her hands there to help him when he had to stop, close his eyes. Both of them ignoring they were aware of each other. She of her palm against his steady chest, he aware of her warm hand on a place that had never touched him. He threw the shirt on the couch next to him as Charlie moved back and grabbed their blankets. They were warm from the place before the fire they came from. This girl was practical and had managed to get a fire going, to keep this cabin warm, with blankets that had dried in those moments he had been outside doing fucking nothing.

Charlie gave him his space. She did grab his shirt and socks, placing them over a small screen in front of the fire. Ignoring the whim of his scent, musky, sweaty and earthy, that came her way as his shirt was in her hands, the light beige colour in her hands.

He let out a deep sigh. Turned his head down and shook his head for a while.

He looked down.

His pants.

Yeah, he was not taking out those, his boots now on the floor, his socks close to the fire, just as his shirt. But the fabric was cold and moist, clinging on to his thighs. He had no choice. So when Charlie sat in front of the fire, untangling her hair with her fingers, he grabbed his bag that was close to the couch, thankful that he had stuffed another pair of pants in the middle of his bag. He pushed the material over his thighs and replaced his pants for another pair.

After that, he had curled up, face away from her, and fell to sleep. Charlie watched how he was locked inside his world, how he was moving away and it dawned on her that there was a possibility Monroe was just not used to this anymore after years of knowing he had a best friend by his side. She thought more about what she knew as she sat there, her face serious, busy with bits of information she had about him. He had been ruling the Republic alone for a long time. No Miles, not other friends left. Year after year.

It was going flowing through her mind in the comfort of the dry, the warm, the wooden floor and the fire in front of her as his clothes were drying, together with hers now.

Some easy snoring from him filling the room. As he was asleep. Remembering how human he was, there, alone on that couch. Asleep. Far away. It was one of those signs she knew, he was really asleep. So she sat there, kept watch as she understood the range of his loneliness.

Hours passed in the rainy night.

She had woken him, a couple of times, moving towards him with the flask. He was so tall when she sat next to him, like a strong certainty. He was half on his way to deep sleep as he sat up for a while. She slowly let him drink, needing him to keep on doing this, although he just wanted to go to sleep again.

She checked the room, windows closed, door closed, their weapons close. The fire going, thanking the person before them there was enough wood. Everything out there was soaked by now. She took her place in between of the fireplacce and him. Feeling warmer, feeling aware of him.

Charlie watched him, the blanket had glided down from his torso, leaving skin exposed. It is when she noticed it. Saw it and felt a rush of pain.

For him.

How easily he became part of her daily routine, how much she learned from him training her on the way back. How easily the words came out, telling her mom, _with shotgun in hand_, she was the one that brought him back, making it clear, perfectly clear, she did that with purpose. Because he was there to help.

Because he saved her life.

Because she knew that broke out a storm of feeling. Without him she would never made it home. Without him she would have never understood the world was so much infinitely wider then she thought it would be.

His back, the back to a proud tall strong body, is forever changed with a wild fight of scars. The flesh wild. She had no idea what happened, but they, the sight of his back, left her unable to move for a long while. One day she will ask him. Not now. Not when there is too much yet to battle out.

Forcing herself to look away, giving herself what to do, she made sure the fire kept on going. That she kept on going. Not losing herself in empathy and her fingers wanting to do something with that blanket as she poked in the fire, the rain now pulsating in a loud equal rhythm against the roof.

Bass heard the sounds of her poking into the wood, and could almost picture her there, lost in thought, those damn blue's in the fire, the arch of her back, the line of her jaws. Maybe later she would have something small in her fingers, to play with. A leave of grass she liked to use out there, in front of a fire as she kept watch of as they sat down for some dinner. Something else. He could picture her so easily. He thought back about the moment they walked straight into hell. They barely avoided an ambush. They had split up, Yelling at Connor to double back, and make it back to Miles and the others. The forest was crawling with lurking attacks and as he had felt his body, his stomach like shit, the energy just not flaming inside his body he knew Connor had to go for help.

It was like this old law inside of his body, keep on going, his years travelling, at base, formed that survival mode, but he also knew, he was losing strength fast and there was no fucking way he would send out Charlie by herself. They were only a day away from Willoughby and if he kept going worse like this, he could need his brother. To keep his kid safe. To keep Charlotte safe.

For her.

Charlie heard him stir. He was finally able to keep fluids down, and the experience she had, the knowledge from Maggie, she knew that the worst was over. She did not know what seemed to happen between then however.

When the night and this space and pace made them two people that were able to almost touch the other.

She did not know where and how she was able to look past it all, and find compassion. She grabbed her bedroll. _Point of no return _ she reminded herself. But she knew that was not the case. Because she was already gravitating towards him. Gently placing the water canteen a bit back. Checking the doors and windows one more time. She slid under her own blanket, the curve of his body close. She used the left over space on the couch behind him, and curled up.

Her hand eventually found a place. It is right under his shoulder, on his shoulder blade, as her fingers touched down on his skin. The first time she touches Monroe. It was there. Warm skin, warm body, strength under it, and deep and heavy waves of powerful muscles under it. A scar under the palm of her hand. Soothed between Bass and the warmth of the fire, she finally remembered how exhausted she was. She put her boots next to him . Felt the couch under her behind. It moved with her weight, causing a deeper height difference in the couch where she could lay in. As she moulded herself alongside him, as his warmth pulled her into sleep as the rain outside raged on.

Bass had been awake again the moment he heard the wood under her feet. He had not thought anything of it, thought she would be there for some water again. He waited. Waited some fucking more. Bass felt a woman slip next to him. Willing. Slowly. Soft. And then he realised it. Charlie Matheson fell asleep, with her warmth and slender body curved against his back. Her fingers so very much there, on his back. It was fucking pathetic, but there was a strange comfort in her hands, in her fingers, in her touch. In her.

* * *

Oh I had this one in my notebook for so long now, and I finally had the time and spark to write it . Thank you to the topsy turvy challenge for making sit down and write this one! The next and second part of the story will come soon. I hope you liked it, as always, thank you for reading! A review or feedback is always welcome if you want to, Love from Love


	2. Chapter 2 Drops of rain and healing

Rain and scars

Two days in once cabin.

Two days and everything changes as Charlie guides him through a long night, just like he has done for her once.

Chapter two

He was awake. She knew he was.

The rain seemed to never top, the forest folded in rain and low hanging clouds and the temperature low. The night still young. Her heart beating in her ears.

Bass felt better, his gut finally calmed the hell down. And then, he felt her, moving slowly behind him, and his fucking train of thought stopped for a second. After he had slept, the fire as a soundtrack in the background, he had woken up. To the sound of her boots. The scent of her close. To the lines of her body curled up against him. He had fallen asleep again. Maybe she needed warmth. Maybe she needed a place to crash.

That was until he had woken up, and his heart beating told him it could be about something else entirely.

She slowly kissed one of his scars. The end of whole flesh that started the beginning of his life with his kid. Bass's face tensed up, as an ambush of tears threatened to take him. But he was a soldier, he fought. He pushed them back.

Her lips gently in contact with his back.

He tasted like sweat. And rain. And leather. And a warm version of him.

She felt how he tilted his head more towards her, while he was still facing the couch. Her belly was now close to his ass, her upper legs close to his as she kissed the place between his shoulder blades.

His hiss at her sweet kiss, got lost into another squall. The wind swept around the cabin. The old wood of the cabin, its strength keeping them locked inside safely. Charlie was grateful for the defence of protective heavy rain, a curtain around the cabin, and weather she hoped that would keep them hidden away and safe from anything else that should not be there.

She felt Bass turn, the slow movement waking her up more. He moved his arm above her as he turned. His armpit so close, the manly dark blond here there, his scent so stimulating to her senses, now her body was waking up, and she took him in a different way then she had before. His arm was slowly lifting her from the couch, as her head slowly got placed against the piece of chest closest to his arm.

He let his left arm glide completely under her neck. Bass watched her with intent. Bass watched her, just like she watched him.

Something existed now between them, here in this cabin, far away from every fucking other thing.

Bass looked at her, a sad mixture of pain, hurt and somebody who expected to get kicked down all over again in his eyes that almost broke her.

His arm was wide behind her shoulder blades.

Bass watched her. Struggling if he could do this, or if he should stop it before it got into more. More, love, trust, family. It only led to more fucking endless shit.

The last time still engraved in his heart and mind.

_I'm sorry_. Relieve. Miles standing right in front of him in Philly. And for one split second he believed the nightmare of ruling the Militia they had started alone in empty halls, was over. That he finally had his brother back.

_I'm sorry I did not kill you before. _And then, with hot tears of betrayal he never had managed to contain when it came to Miles, it had all shattered. Endless loneliness and the need to end anything that had been tied down to Miles. His home, Emma when there were no friends left.

Charlie. She was a storm of rain to be reckoned with. Somehow the pieces of her in this endless world had been mixed up with his. She had somehow changed her mind when it came to him, and it was strong, written in blue eyes and the fact she was willing to look at him, and let him look at her.

His chest was bare, as she kissed his chest. She felt him right before her, as his body started to respond. Making her feel dizzy and wanted and like she wanted to touch him, in every way. The sound of the rain, the smell of the fire. And this man, this man in front of her.

This was not going to be quick, if he wanted her too.

His hand was on her upper leg, with still above the blanket.

A final line of defence as he tilted his head towards her, and his head made a nook where hers completely fell against, against his neck, against his collarbone, against one small nipple surrounded by strong lines on his chest.

And then she looked up.

And Sebastian Monroe kissed her. It was all intent, but it was gentle. As he looked for her mouth. Tested the firm resistance of her lips. They eyes locked one more time, before they closed their eyes. She knew he surrendered. She did too so this was an even battle that was not a battle anymore, but a soft moment between all the battles , of touching, kissing.

His mouth took more and more of hers, drinking her in like rain, as he moved over her, and she gently took all he had to offer.

And now, that hand on her shoulder blade, those fingers moved into her flesh. His other made a line from her upper leg to her side, as it rested there, under her arm and under the blanket.

Together with his hand eyes on her, she moved down hers to his pants. The lines of defined muscles right under his nipples were now territory for her fingers. Her fingers now a path with a mission, as Bass had to close his eyes again, tilted his head against the back of the couch as he realised where she was going to take them.

Him. He opened them again, willing himself to look at her, as she opened his pants, with her hand covered by his, a gently cupping of a large battled hand over a slender softer one that had seen much but would take so much more.

Her pants got opened by quick fingers, as her thighs and blonde curls were freed. And as he groaned when she held his cock for the first time, he finally moved towards her.

She watched how Bass slowly moved his fingers towards the spot under the blankets, and when he reached it, he slowly moved his fingers over where her lips came together, the wet fluid sticky and warm between his fingers when his middle finger moved between her lips and started playing her body. Under the blanket, her want for him, together with his for hers, mingled into a musky cloud if scent.

Fuck, Bass felt the swollen lips of her pussy, the sweet wetness under the palm of his hand shoot straight to his cock.

This time, She kissed him again, as he moved his hand, his fingertips digging into the firm flesh of her thigh and ass, lifting it over his upper leg. His cock moved in the space that arose from his intentional movement of his arm, his determined and experienced move, like he knew her body.

Charlie felt how he easily shifted her into his arms, knowing how much strength lay under those muscles that were now around her. But still gentle, with her.

Her curls moved into his, as she felt the curls above the base of his cock tickle into the skin of her belly. They were rougher than the hairs at the nape of his neck, and that roughness made her call for him even more.

His arm still under her neck. With one hand entangled in her hair on the back of her head, gently cupping it and keeping her there and his other on her upper thigh, he found his way. The stretching of her causing them both to let out a hiss as he tensed the muscles in his ass to guide his cock to her.

With her hands on his chest she willed him to lay still, as she took over, laying face to face on her side with Bass. He looked at her, maybe she even saw a smile around his eyes, as he kept her there where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be. His arm providing a nook for her head, as she found a place against his body that kept her warm, their bodies moving under the blanket where it was safe for them to excist.

He watched how she moved herself down against his cock, concentrating as he knew what she was looking for, reaching the line she wanted to cross, trying to get there, as he felt the subtle spasm in her stomach. He pulled her closer in his arm with one strong arm he kept her thigh in place, keeping up with her moaning and waving of her hips as she started to whisper something.

'Bass...' it echoed against his chest, as she desperately tried to hold on to him, needing that release that was slowly, with every movement over his cock, getting closer.

'You let go Charlie...' He was surprised at how scratchy his voice sounded. Because that was exactly what he wanted her to do, for so fucking long now. Let go, in his arms.. Being that guy he once was, somehow needing her to see he was still somewhere out there in the dark. Let her feel she was safe with him, because dammit she was, wanting her, no it was more, _craving _for her to feel fucking safe enough to come over his cock, eyes locked, her body locked into his arms

'Bass,' This time it was with more force as she grabbed his ass. She could not not say his name, as the rhythm of her body and the feel of his hard cock, and the fact that it was him, him, that stirred things awake in her that should have stayed asleep, that made her want to come, there in the nook of his arms.

He knew she was close, and fuck, didn't that drive his cock into needing more of her deepness, more of her. His fingers of his free hand tingled the skin of her neck. His hand slowly wrapped around it.

It was his slow claim of her. The way he held her close, the raw rock his body was against his that made her tilt her hips and come into a loud gasp her body wrapping against his.

Somewhere, when she had gotten down from her orgasm, he had started to move again inside of her. First with only his cock, but then, he kissed her with more greed, as she realised what he needed now.

She circled him, with her lips, with her arms, as her fingers went through his moustache and beard. And then, she moved hands around him, reaching for his back. Gently holding him, all of him, scars and all there was. She watched him, saw it in his eyes.

The gentleness, but with a fort of so much hurt around it.

'Let go.' She whispered in his ear.

Fuck, he cursed again. She was too damn close, seeing him, and still, giving him this, her. A growl voiced his struggle, his struggle for her as his thrusts slowed down but became more needy, deep, aggressive.

'It's okay Bass...' another whisper as he started to move his cock deeper inside of her.

'Dammit...Charlie...' he was cursing for how she was making him feel. Like he could be Bass, like she gave him space to be Bass as they were fucking on the couch.

It was how she held onto him with all she had that made him come with her thighs and musky scent and her wetness gliding over his cock and balls, so damn close, as he locked his jaws in pure fucking agonizing pleasure as he shot his warm cum inside of her.

His eyes were almost dark blue, maybe even darker, when he watched her.

He pushed her back into the couch, as his cock was inside of her still, kissing her deeply, slowly. She felt how his long arm moved over her, and brought the blanket with.

Her own blanket had hit the floor, but she did not care as she fell asleep with her touching him in slow strokes around his jaw, as he did the same with the soft flesh of her shoulder, the scent of his warm skin. His large thigh trapping her in one place, strangely comforting now she felt what it was like, knowing she was falling asleep with the one man, next to Miles, that would make her feel safe, asleep.

Because he was, next to Miles, the one man that could.

One blanket, _His blanket,_ was enough for them both.

They fell asleep. And when morning came, and it was still dark around the cabin but warm under their blanket that now smelled of him and her, and the sticky connection between him and her between her legs was still there, she woke up.

The morning came, the rain had stopped and slow last drops made it from the gutter down the porch in steady thumbs. The forest had stayed calm as his shirt and her boots had dried. It was time to get going, face it all fucking again.

The fire was almost out, as slow flames and sounds filled the room. He was about to put on his shirt as she walked to him. He turned his upper body against her, as her hand landed on his chest. She kissed his wide upper arm as her stomach touched his back. They held each other with their eyes.

She was still Charlie Matheson. He was still Sebastian Monroe. But somewhere in the cloud of rain something strong had happened, here in this cabin around them.

And then, it was breakfast, putting their shit into their bags as the morning brought another day.

He gave her some privacy, as he walked outside.

He stood out on the porch, the door open behind him, clicking another clip into his gun when he saw them.

'Where in the hell is Charlie?' Miles barked at Bass with slow punctuation. Right behind him, Connor stepped into the room. Miles had his whole I am worried but I am still marching into the room like nothing the fuck is going on routine step on him.

'Really Miles?' he said, whining, ' I am all right, thank you very much.' He was bitching but he knew why Miles asked him, he would fucking ask the same thing.

'I am here.' She stepped from the corner of the cabin towards her uncle.

'You all right?' Miles looked at her, up and down.

'I'm fine Miles,'

'What in the good hell happened?'

'Bass got a little sick and someone had to stay behind and take care of him.' She said as she walked over to grab her stuff.

'You okay?' Connor asked.

'I'm as good as new kid.' He said, moving his gun into the waistband of his jeans. His legs feeling a bit unsteady, but that could also have other reasons than the stomach bug or food poisoning . Whatever. Charlotte moved past him, and he really did his best not to look at her fine ass and how tits moved in that tank.

Knowing that quick bath in the kitchen she gave herself in there with a splash of water did not erase him within her.

And he was not a saint, hell, he never was, so he liked that. Craved that thought.

'You sure you okay? Because I really don't feel like dragging your heavy ass all the way back, Bass.'

'I am fine Miles,' Bass was still biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to fucking smile at the sparkling Charlie's eyes as they both knew how she had taken care of him.

'Thanks buddy.' He added.

'Yeah yeah, let's get this shit on the road.' Miles sighed. Thankful that Charlie and his brother were still in one piece. When Connor had found his way back, like some dog with puppy eyes out of some movie he remembered, he had freaked the hell out. When he heard Bass stayed with Charlie, Rachel had freaked the hell out, but he had not anymore. Charlie was safe with Bass, he knew that. And more importantly as his niece could kick ass, Bass was safe with her. And when his mind was filled with images of a hurt or sick Charlie, he had to know, that it was her, that she would take care of his brother's ass.

'So, you took care of that moron?' Miles nodded with a Matheson smile plastered on his face.

'Yeah, well, somebody had to do it.'

'You know I am in the room, right?' Bass growled on the outside. Glowing on the inside this was his family, the people that saw him, looked out for him, and as Charlie once said, come back for him.

Miles turned from Bass with a moody face, but with a grin in his eyes towards her.

'You did good kid.' Miles said to her, with a wink.

Charlie smirked back at him.

Bass grabbed Connor by the shoulder in a friendly way. Glad to see his kid again. Glad to see his brother again.

'Ah, look at that,' Charlie mocked, 'a father and son moment, how adorable.' She said with a sugar sweet tone.

Connor glared at her, still hating to know that he was seen as the kid, not the guy he wanted to be seen by her. Bass grinned at her.

They stepped into the morning light, as she felt Bass walk behind her.

They locked eyes, moving out.

But then, she felt his hand warm on her back for a second. Leaving the cabin behind, but impossible to leave what happened between the both of them behind. They would take that with them. Bass still felt her asleep in his arms, her warm steady breathing under his arms after he took her, firm, slow. Maybe that was the fucking truth that reached him most. She trusted him enough to sleep. There, with him.

Warm, naked, no weapons, no wall between them.

He felt the touch of her lips against his scars on his back.

Connor walked ahead, close to Miles. It was his family now. The people he walked this world with. Fought with. Lived with.

She had showed him by silently by accepting him on her way back. By asking to save his life. But now, he felt it. _He had somebody._ With him, willing to look at him, his scars, his darkness, and still walk that distance with him. Still move against him, in a warm slow rhythm as their bodies sought each other out. And for that, he would fucking never let anyone close who would take a piece of her. They had to get through him first. It would be the same now as taking a piece of him. Maybe in the end even more so than Miles. She was pure. Strength. Slender touches of her fingers. Support.

She was life again.

His fingers touched down on her skin, only her tank in between. But it did not matter, because she felt his warmth radiate through it.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading. I loved all your reviews for the first part and I loved reading them all. If I don't send you an answer back, it is because I am busy with life and writing, but please now I read them all with appreciation and that they keep me going, writing, exploring more Charlie and Bass. Love from Love


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